The Toddler Strikes Again (Part 873,243)

When the house is too quiet, be afraid. Be VERY AFRAID.

That's talcum powder on the chair. And the floor. And the bed. And the toddler.

Sorry for the dearth of posts last week. Same old story – too much to do, too little time in which to do it.

Last week, we went to an indoor park with Colleen and her son, Joey. I’m going to try to post those pictures later, when I get home. I haven't forgotten, Colleen!

For now, just a funny story. Our refrigerator door has started sticking – I think, because it’s sagging a little bit. Now that it’s sticking, it’s very difficult for Sammy to get open. Not that he’s supposed to be in there anyway, but we cannot keep him out of it. We bought one of those refrigerator locks, and it lasted less than 24 hours before he managed to break it. We should hire him out to be a tester for those companies that make child-proofing products. He’s managed to break or outsmart virtually every child-proofing item we’ve bought, including but not limited to: gates, cabinet locks, and doorknob covers. Either he’s going to be a safecracker or a spy. Hopefully he puts his talents towards good instead of evil.

But I digress. Now that the door has started sticking, I thought, good! Finally a way to keep him out of the refrigerator! But no. This morning, he wanted some milk and didn’t want to wait the two minutes it would take for me to finish up what I was doing. I walked into the kitchen to see him sitting on the floor in front of the door with his feet slid underneath the door and braced on the body of the refrigerator, while he held the door and leaned back with all of his weight. And he got that sucker open.

This morning, Ron called me at work, and started off by saying, "Guess what Sammy did this morning." My response was, "What?" immediately followed by, "Never mind - I'm not sure I really want to know."

Turns out that Ron was a little busy with Natalie this morning, and Sammy was feeling neglected. I should mention here that she's had a bad cough for a couple of days, which turned into a full-blown cold last night, and we brought her in to Urgent Care because she wasn't acting like herself. And...she has her first ear infection. Big surprise there. But I digress.

While Ron was busy with Natalie, Sammy decided he wanted more orange juice and he was going to take matters into his own hands. Ron walked out into the kitchen to see this layout on the floor in front of the refrigerator: orange juice container (sans cap), Sammy's sippy cup (sans cap), and Sammy, poised to pick up the orange juice. All I could think was, good thing Ron hadn't waited another 30 seconds to walk out there to check on him. I'd still have been finding sticky puddles of dried orange juice under the refrigerator months from now.

Natalie was hungry as soon as we got home from daycare, so I went straight into the living room to nurse her, leaving my things in the kitchen. Before too long, I noticed Sammy nonchalantly heading for the kitchen. As soon as I heard the telltale sound of my purse zipper opening, I knew what he was into. “Sammy, what are you doing in my purse?” I said. He answered, “Looking at something.” “Okay…what are you looking at?” I said. He waited a moment before answering “Suckers.” Apparently he’d found the stash of suckers I keep in my purse for emergency bribes. I’m so glad he hasn’t yet figured out that telling the truth is not always in his best interests.

I can see that the two of them are going to be such trouble someday. They’re already becoming co-conspirators. I was doing the dishes, while Natalie was strapped in her high chair, and Sammy was at the kitchen table having a snack. When I heard Natalie start laughing, I turned around to see Sammy crawling on the table, trying to reach something I’d left there earlier. I told him to get down, and he did, but a second later he was again slyly trying to reach the desired toy while Natalie laughed him on. And there is nothing that boy likes better than attention, so the rest of the night he was playing up to her, trying to get her to laugh while she willingly obliged.

Not one of my proudest parenting moments

Back around Thanksgiving, Sammy decided to crawl around with his face planted in the carpet. I guess it seemed like a good idea at the time. Needless to say, he ended up with a nasty case of carpet burn. Maybe he thought it would make him look like a tough guy.

It's hard to look tough when you're playing in your little sister's exersaucer.

I know that's not a great picture, but you get the idea. A few days after it happened, his nose scabbed over and looked just awful. It must have itched too because he wouldn't leave it alone, and I could see the scab starting to come off, so I kept getting after him to leave it alone. Sure enough, he ended up pulling off the whole scab, and it started gushing blood everywhere. He was trying to wipe his nose off with the sleeve of his light-colored shirt, and since I had Natalie sitting in my lap, I was having a hard time trying contain the blood and gore without dropping her. Without thinking, I said "dammit" and right away, realized what I'd done but it was too late to take it back. In between his sobs, he started saying "dammit", *sob*, "dammit, *sob*, *sniffle*, "dammit". Yay me, teaching my child his first cuss word.

Then the next day, he was trying to put a blanket over his head and was having a hard time getting it just right. I heard a muffled "dammit" come from under the blanket. What can I say - at least he understands the correct usage of the word.